Emma's shitty sentence
by Twigeldam
Summary: Have some Paulkins soulmate au with no singing zombies.
1. Chapter 1

**Author note: I am using a pretty famous Soulmate Au, in which the first sentence your soulmate will say to you shows up on your hand when you turn 18. In case you already met them before you are 18, It will be the next thing they will say to you after your tattoo shows up.**

**I** **decided to set my OTP into this Au, I Hope you enjoy! **

**Rated M for swearing.**

I took a small break from my work as a cure lil' barista.

I was surfing the web on my phone, but then the bandage around my left arm suddenly felt itchy.

I cursed and rubbed it.

I didn't want to think about what was lying underneath.

But of course, my resistance to these shitty thoughts just made them stronger.

What my bandage covered wasn't an injury.

It was my fucked up soulmate sentence.

I covered it because, you know, that's the first thing I had been taught to do when I learned about the soulmate sentences: You should cover your words so people can't use them to trick you.

I don't know how it goes where you live, but in my place if your sentence is exposed it signals that you are either taken or an idiot.

And since I am single as fuck and (hopefully) not an idiot, I don't show my sentence.

I know most people cover their sentence with a jewel, family heirloom or at least designated garment, but I don't think my sentence deserve such a treatment.

I know it could be worth.

It's not like I got "I wanna rape you" or anything, it's just that my sentence is so boring.

And yet so full of destiny.

A very specific destiny.

I sighed.

I remembered how before my 18th birthday I fantasized about a cool sentence, like "You are an asshole" or "Hot damn".

But when I woke up in my birthday what was written on my hand was a coffee order.

_A fucking coffee order._

It might as well be written **You are going to have a normal, average life and you are going to meet your normal, average soulmate while working as a normal, average barista.**

So I said: "well that's a shitty sentence" and ran away. Flew to Guatemala, where I dealt with backpacking and with coatimundis up in my shit but not with fucked up sentences.

I planned to stay there forever, but my sister Jane brought me back to Hatchetfield.

I was the bad girl and she was the good one.

She even got a romantic sentence- **You are the most beautiful woman I ever met. **I swear to god, that was her sentence.

I used to laugh at her a lot for that.

She had a Lisa Frank binder when she was a kid, where she mapped out her entire life and she actually stuck to it, bullet point by bullet point: Job, husband, house, kids.

She used to call me and invite me home for the big events like weddings and baby showers and I always said I would come to the next one.

But then I got the invitation to her funeral and I realized that there won't be a next one.

I grew up in her shadow and then, when she was gone, the light shone on my own life for the first time and it didn't look good.

So that's how I went back to hatchetfield in the age 30, started study botany in community college and hell, even started to work as a barista so I could find my soulmate and finally settle down.

But the fact I decided to do it didn't make me feel ready for that.

The mere thought of meeting my soulmate made me feel sickeningly nervous.

"Pull yourself together, Emma," I told myself, "People make too big of a deal out of soulmates. You just need to relax. If you meet your soulmate, don't give any shit. If you like 'em, flirt with 'em. If you don't, then don't. Now get back to work."

I went back to behind the counter.

An asshole came in and ordered a grande caramel frappe in a venti cup of ten pumps of hazelnut, three shots of espresso, no caramel drizzle, with whip on top.

Ugh, thank god this is not the order I have written on my hand.

As soon as I gave the asshole his order, I wore again my customer service smile and asked the next man in line: "Hi, can I help you?"

He hesitated for a second before delivering his order: "Yeah, I got an easy one for you: just a cup of black coffee."

My heart failed a beat.

The entire world seemed to stop for a moment.

I felt heat spreading in my body like fire.

I just told myself not to make big deal of soulmates, and yet my hand was shaking as I slowly, speechlessly unwrapped the bandage and showed the stranger his exact words tattooed on my left hand, black against my latte skin.

As an answer, he rolled up the left sleeve of his suit and revealed my dear, old, boring automatic service phrase: **Hi, can I help you?**

"well that's a shitty sentence," I said.

Some people in the coffee shop clapped and cheered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author note: Hey NiteStar.**

**I edited the previous chapter, but don't bother reading it all over again, I just fixed some minor mistakes. Let me know if I have new errors in my new chapter.**

Of course they were cheering, after all being present when soulmates find each other is considered very lucky.

I myself was blessed several times by seeing couples meet through their sentences and they always seemed truly happy to find each other.

But I didn't feel happy, just awkward.

"Um… I should probably make your coffee," I said after a long gaze into his blue, unusual eyes.

"Yes," he agreed.

I made a cup of simple, black coffee and handed it to him.

Our fingertips touched as he took the paper cup from my hand.

He paid the exact price and then added five bucks to the tip jar. Sweet.

"What's your name?" I asked.

I didn't want my soulmate to go away without even knowing his fucking name.

"Paul," he answered.

"Hi Paul, I'm Emma," I said with a (hopefully) friendly smile.

"Okay. Bye, Emma," he said and left, or at least was about to leave when a nerdy looking teen interrupted him.

"Ask for her phone number, YOU MORON!" the boy demanded, staring the poor man so closely that his glasses almost touched Paul's face.

Paul's naturally pinkish skin color deepened toward a shade of red.

He turned back to me.

"Um… can…I…" he said, hesitated and tried again: "Canihaveyourphonenumber?"

I smiled, more sincerely this time.

"Yeah, why not?" I answered and we exchanged phone numbers.

In a moment of humorous mood, I saved him as Paulmate.

"Bye, Emma," he said again and left the coffee shop.

"Can I get my hot chocolate now?" asked the nerdy teenager.

"Sure," I replied and went back to my job routine.

But then Zoey, who is technically my manager even though she is ten years younger then me, decided to show up.

"Hey, Em- your bandage is off!" she said, surprised.

"I know, I removed it," I answered.

"She just met her soulmate," the teenage joined the conversation.

I felt uncomfortable.

Does the entire town of Hatchetfield gonna know about this piece of gossip? I wasn't ready for that.

"Oh my god!" Zoey exclaimed, "can I read your sentence?"

I rolled my eyes and turned my left forearm toward her.

I didn't want to do it, but there was no point in hiding the uncovered.

Zoey read the words and chuckled.

"A coffee order?" she said.

"Pretty boring, huh?" I commented.

"are you kidding?" she asked, grinning in a very annoying way, "Emma Perkins, the most sarcastic, crabby, tired and done Barista in Hatchetfield, started working at Beanie's _to find love_?"

"Please stop," I groaned.

"Isn't is the cutest?" she carried on, ignoring my request, "Emma is a living proof that love blooms in coffee shops."

"Zoey. Stop," I pleaded.

She grabbed my left arm and raised it.

"All hail Emma, the coffee lover!" she announced in a silky voice.

"Coffee Lover, Coffee lover!" several people called cheerfully.

"God dammit," I grunted and facepalmed with my free hand.

Then my boss Nora showed up and for the first time in my life I was happy to see her.

'Jesus Christ, what's going on?" she asked.

"Emma just found the love of her life," Zoey answered smugly.

Nora smiled.

"Our coffee shop had been blessed," she said, "for once you did something positive, Emma. Now move your ass back to work."

"Yes ma'am," I replied and obeyed.

The rest of the day at Beanie's was normal, except I couldn't focus and kept messing up people's orders, but most of them didn't complain, just corrected me with soft expressions.

One woman even said to me: "Mazel tov."

God, Rumors spread fast in Hatchetfield.

Later on, when was at the college, I got a text from Paulmate- I mean paul.

He wrote: _Hey, we clearly need to talk face to face and get to know each other. Are you free tomorrow at 5:00 pm? _

_Sure, where do you wanna meet? _I texted back.

_How about that nice, lonely park? Do you know that one? _He replied.

_The one with only grass and benches in it? _I asked to make sure.

_Yeah_, he answered.

_OK, I am into it_, I texted and smiled despite myself.

Five o'clock can't come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author note: Phew, I finally finished this chapter! Self-clapping! **

**If anyone want to complain about my writing:**

**A. English is not my native language**

**B. Currently, I am the only TGWDLM writer in Fanfiction.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

The day after Paul came again to Beanie's.

He wore a different suit, with sleeves short enough to show his sentence.

I wondered if he bought it after he met me.

"Let me guess," I welcomed him, "you want black coffee, right?"

"Yes," he said, "and caramel frappe for my friend."

I nodded and started making the drinks.

"Hey, Emma?" Paul asked.

"Yes?" I replied, turned back to him and wondered if he wanted a shitty pastry with his coffee.

"Do you have coeliac?" he asked.

"No. Why?" I answered and asked, a little confused.

"It just that, um…." He started answering while staring down and rubbing his neck in embarrassment, "I planned to have a picnic at our meeting, as a surprise thing, but then it occurred to me that you might be Coeliac. Or vegetarian. Or vegan. Or allergic to lactose or eggs or strawberries or nuts or-"

"I have no allergies," I interrupted him, so the poor guy would not have to mention all the allergies in the world.

"Oh," he said, "That's a relief."

I finished making his drinks and handed them to him.

He paid, left a rather generous tip and said goodbye.

"Cute soulmate," I murmured after he left the coffeeshop.

The picnic started kinda awkward.

We ate some sandwiches and tried to carry on a conversation about ourselves: about our likes and dislikes. Our interests.

But it didn't last long before it came to an inevitable awkward silence.

"So," I said after a few minutes, "You got a shitty sentence, huh? What could you figure out with **Hi, can I help you**?"

"I guess vague sentences are my family tradition," he replied and nodded in somehow cute way, "My parents got **Hi** and **Hello**. I don't even know whether they are true soulmates or two random people."

"I actually knew someone whose sentence is **Hi**," I said and smiled as the memory rose up in my mind, "When she found out she went crazy, she refused to cover her word and answered everyone who said hi to her with the most ridiculous word combinations that came to her mind, like _gradually watermelon _and _I like shapes. _I wonder how she is doing now."

"Probably married happily to someone with the words **Sing the beginning of Moana** on his arms," Paul suggested.

I laughed.

"Maybe," I said with a smile.

"It was hard sometimes," Paul admitted, "To have my sentence. Because there was more than one service provider who greeted me with this sentence, so I had to deal with some disappointments and…" his voice broke-"I am so glad it was you."

"What?" I asked and gave him a weird look.

I thought I didn't hear him right.

"I am SO glad it was you," he repeated, "And I know it sounds cheesy, but the first time I came to Beanie's was when Starbucks was close, so I had to go beyond my customs, and when I entered the coffeeshop I saw you scold some rude guy, and I guess I fell in love with you. So, I kept coming to Beanie's and for some reason you never were the one who served me, and I had to keep reminding myself that if you say the words to me it would mean nothing-" his voice broke again-"But then you unwrapped your bandage and it was like a dream come true."

I felt my cheeks getting warm and looked down at the grass.

I just heard a love confession, a very beautiful one, especially compared to the previous confession I heard:_ I fucking want to fuck you._

I knew I should have said something and not leave him hanging, but I had no fucking idea what to say.

After a while, I managed to speak: "I barely know you, but… I think I am glad you are my soulmate."

I smiled to him, because for once in my shitty life something wasn't wrong.

He smiled back.

And like in the dumbass romantic movies, we slowly brought our left hands closer until our fingers connected, and then we lifted our arms and brought our forearms together so that our sentences touched.

It called soulmate kiss (Like you don't know) and it made me smile like a fucking idiot for the rest of the day.

I fucking want to fuck Paul.

**The end!**


End file.
